


The Only Man Who Can Save You

by Ria Talla (ronia)



Series: One Quarter of the Stars [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Darth Vader (Comics)
Genre: Children, Family Drama, Gen, Harm to Children, Human Experimentation, Unethical Experimentation, stolen children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronia/pseuds/Ria%20Talla
Summary: Aiolin Astarte, Pre-Rebellion Era/Original Trilogy"What are your names?" he asked them, as his hand moved to Aiolin. They each answered in turn, and he nodded, before kneeling down to meet their level. "I am called Dr. Cylo. I've been a friend of your parents for quite some time.""I don't know you," said Morit. Dr. Cylo smiled, leaning closer to her brother."We've never met," he answered. "And aside from that, I sometimes prefer not to wear the same face for too long."
Relationships: Aiolin Astarte & Cylo (Star Wars), Aiolin Astarte & Morit Astarte
Series: One Quarter of the Stars [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1275476
Kudos: 3





	The Only Man Who Can Save You

Aiolin Astarte  
19 BBY / 12 BBY

Predictably, Aiolin had wandered off. She did that so much that Miss Nineteen forced her to wear a tracking cuff, so that at least the droid would always be able to find her. Aiolin never complained when it was affixed on her wrist in the mornings before Miss Nineteen led the children down to breakfast, but whenever she was alone, she started to pick and pry at it. It wasn't really because she cared if the droid could find her; she was only curious about whether she could do it. So far, the cuff hadn't budged.

The rest of the family had gathered in the evening for a picnic on the black sand beach. The Astarte family spent every summer at their private island in the Holvi archipelago, though according to Rena, who was old enough to remember these things, this summer had been a very quiet one. The children were always sent from Celanon City a couple weeks early, but this year it had been nearly a month before their parents and Aunt Amara joined them. Aiolin and her brothers and sister had spent their time wading in the pale green waters that surrounded the islands, playing tag and Wookiee Warpath, and rushing to greet the hovercrafts that delivered supplies at the docks, eager to talk to another organic, or at least anyone who wasn't Miss Nineteen. But even when the craft weren't piloted by droids, their crews were usually busy and not interested in entertaining a group of bored children. 

Even when their aunt and parents did arrive, nothing changed much. They ate meals and occasionally spent time on the beaches together, but most of the time, the three adults were shut up in the sunroom of the island house, watching the holonews. The children, or at least Aiolin and her brothers, tried to listen at the door or peek through the enormous windows, having been banned from Holonet themselves, but between Miss Nineteen and Rena dragging them away from their hiding spots, they could never catch much. But they could see Aunt Amara and their parents arguing through the glass, and hear their voices whenever any of them slipped up and let out a shout. 

Miss Nineteen was useless if you wanted to know what was going on, though Rena was easy to bother for information. But even Rena didn't really know anything – she told the others about past years, when the house hosted dozens of visitors and parties were held almost nightly in the summer. Ait and Myn were old enough to remember some of this, but Aiolin and Morit, twins at six years old, were just barely of age to escape from seclusion with the nanny droid. Rena remembered queens and viceroys and "important business friends" arriving on shimmering ship. But aside from the one that brought their parents, the Astarte children hadn't seen a ship all summer. When they asked Rena what had changed, their sister waved her hand, and said "something about the war." Which they all took to mean their parents hadn't told her, either.

But it was the evening of the picnic that Aiolin saw it, the first ship. She'd sat alone on the ancient dock, the only dock on this part of the beach, her legs swung over the side so her feet dangled just above the water. She had been picking at her tracking cuff, trying to jam her soft fingernails beneath the metal - it was dusk, and she knew Miss Nineteen would be coming for her soon. It was when she took a break from her picking, and looked up at the sky. Celanon had no moon, so the only light in the night were the stars, but she saw the way the stars winked in and out. In a flow, like a fish right below the water. She jumped, felt her feet on the dock, and in a few seconds, she was running back to the beach.

"There's a ship," she yelled as she sprinted full-on toward the fire. Miss Ninteen's bright blue eyes glinted up first, and there was a rustle around the fire. Her parents and aunt were standing by the time she reached them, already looking up at the sky, but Morit stood up too, and shoved at his twin when she came in reach, screeching at her, "You made it up! You didn't see anything!"

Shocked by the unfairness of this, Aiolin gave him a hard shove back, and yelled "I did too!" Morit stumbled and fell back into the fire pit, but as the flames were artificial, no one paid much mind. Morit rolled to get back on his feet among the orange-and-yellow hololights, as their mother looked down and snapped her fingers, a familiar demand for quiet. 

"Miss Nineteen," she said, her voice tense. "Get the children inside, upstairs, and keep them all there. We'll go meet it at the bay."

"Yes, ma'am." Miss Nineteen turned on the children as the adults departed, shivering her plated metal body to shake off the dark beach sand. "Morit, get up and hold your sister. Ait and Myn, fold up the fire. Rena, take the lamp and lead us back."

Morit jumped up from the fake flames, eager to take his assignment of grabbing Aiolin's uncuffed hand. His grip was hard, but Aiolin didn't try to pull away from him, Miss Nineteen had lectured here enough for wandering off that she knew it was pointless. Her older brothers switched off the fire and folded up its projection map, while Rena took the remaining lamp and switched it on. She led her siblings back toward the house, the nanny droid's ball-locomotion buzzing in the sand behind the twins. 

It was about thirty minutes later when the children, crowded around the window in Rena's room, watched a group approach the house. They could hear Miss Nineteen in the doorway behind them, making that soft knocking noise they knew she made when she was about to force them to stop doing something, but they stayed quiet in place, hoping it would put off the moment when the droid would eventually drag them away. There had been a bright light in the distance when the ship landed, but now only the flash of lamps and the warm glow from the house.

And something else. There were flashes in the dark, Aiolin could make out her mother's bright hair, the blue glitter of Aunt Amara's jacket. And then around them – there were men, four of them, three wearing the same simple white uniform, and something –

"What's that around their ears?" she heard Ait ask. "That big metal things?"

"I don't recognize anything of them," Rena whispered to the others. "He's never been to Mama and Papa's parties –"

But that was all the conversation they were allowed. Miss Nineteen had made up her mind. "Bed, children."

There was plenty of protest as Miss Nineteen herded the children away from the window, back into the parlor. Complaints as they pulled on their nightclothes, were shoved into the refresher, and then finally taken hand-in-metal-hand to each of their rooms. By that time, whoever those men were must have reached the house. They couldn't hear much downstairs, and a peek into Rena's room before the door was shut told them the windows were dark. Miss Nineteen took Aiolin and Morit to bed last, refusing to leave until they were each laying under the covers and the light was switched off.

Of course, Aiolin didn't plan on sleeping. She knew how long Miss Nineteen kept her sensors on the door, and she counted down the seconds until she could sit up in bed. Across their darkened bedroom, Morit sat up, too. 

Aiolin didn't really like Morit. Because they were twins, and because they had the same light blond hair and blue eyes, everyone thought they might as well have been the same. They always had the same room, even at home. They had always been expected to play together, even though Morit's ideas were boring and he seemed to have the most fun when he could shove Aiolin around. He never wanted to go anywhere or do anything with her besides toss around their tiny toy ships and hovercrafts, sometimes throwing them so hard they smashed on the floors. But then these were just replaced, while _she_ still got in trouble for wandering off. 

Aiolin stepped out of bed, and tiptoed toward the door. But she saw Morit do the same, silently creeping toward her. 

"What're you doing?" she snapped, but he didn't stop.

"I want to come too!"

She stopped and hissed loudly in his face. The room seemed very quiet after that, and for a second Aiolin froze. But when she heard nothing outside, she crept closer to the door to the parlor, not even stopping when she felt Morit following. 

"She's going to _see_ you," Morit whispered behind her. Aiolin slipped right up to the door, and put her ear against it. There was nothing, not the clink of mechanical arms, or the shuffle of her transport ball against the carpets.

"I think she's shut off."

"She's not shut off," Morit said, taking up the door next to her. "She's in guard mode, she'll see you sneaking out."

" _Shut up_." But Aiolin knew he was right. Miss Nineteen rarely shut off until at least a few hours into the night, and even then she had a motion sensor that could switch her back if someone was out of bed. Aiolin had been caught plenty of times that way. She didn't always think these things through, and it was harder to just march out there and hope she was lucky with Morit hissing in her ear.

She stood at the door a few more seconds, knowing Miss Nineteen might hear them arguing anyway, then looked back at him. "What's _your_ idea?"

Morit scrambled away from the door, back toward his bed. Their bedroom curtains were closed, and Aiolin could barely see him move in the small white nightlight Miss Nineteen left by her bed. Just enough to see him crouch in a dark mass next to the bed, and shuffle around on the floor. This went on for a few minutes, and Aiolin turned away, leaning back against the door, trying to hear if Miss Nineteen was moving around out there. All she could make out were voices, definitely not Miss Nineteen's and far away, probably downstairs. She listened so hard that she didn't hear Morit come back until he knocked the door next to her.

"I shine it at her sensor," Morit whispered, holding up a small flashlight. "It's what I do at home."

It was be one of those times Aiolin when would remember that her twin wasn't so different from her as she usually thought. But _he_ was better at getting away with it. 

Aiolin stepped back so that he could take her place at the door's edge. Even in the dark, this would be the moment she would remember most clearly, strange as that was. Morit pressed the door open, very, very slowly. She barely saw it move at first, only watched the black space between the door and the frame grow. He only opened it enough to fit the flashlight, and when no alarm came from Miss Nineteen, he switched the light on.

He fiddled with the light, then pushed the door completely open. The droid stayed silent. 

And Aiolin took her chance to run across the room. In her stocking feet, she hardly made a sound, but Morit was left to creep slowly, so that the beam of light never left Miss Nineteen's sensor. He couldn't do anything more than give her a dirty look once he reached her, but Aiolin did wait for him, at the top of the staircase. She remembered that, too. She wondered if Morit did. She wondered –

But as he couldn't argue with her now, they slipped down the stairs. Soon, Aiolin could hear enough of the voices to hear they were loud and stiff – the kind of voices that came before someone started yelling – but not enough to make out what they were saying. When they reached the bottom step, Morit turned down the left hall, toward the side kitchen, and Aiolin decided to follow him. The kitchen ran along the sitting room, and there was a flapping door between them. One that was good for spying. 

Aiolin and Morit crept closer to the door. The voices in the sitting room had run loud and soft, but they couldn't understand what they'd heard without catching what they'd missed. Aiolin hunched down near one side of the door, Morit across from her. The space between the door and the wall was slightly wider on Aiolin's side, and she pressed one eye to it, so she could see a slice of the room.

It was bright, like all the lamps were on. She could see the black windows on the far wall, and part of a single black, cushioned armchair which was empty. The only person she could see was one of the men in white they had spotted from the window – he was standing behind the chair, his arms at his sides. He was very tall, and thin, and this close up, Aiolin could see small green-and-red lights flashing at the metal band that wrapped around his head.

"So you've just come to tell us you've sold us out?" It was her father's voice. "The Confederacy, Count Dooku – "

"Dooku sealed his own fate with his rash attack on Coruscant." It was another man's voice, one she didn't know. "Without its head, the Confederacy would inevitably unravel. I've merely taken judicious steps to stay ahead of events, as you should have, too." 

"Is that why you're here?" Aunt Amara whipped across the slice of room Aiolin could see, in a swift shimmer of her blue dress. "To taunt us because we didn't jump ship as fast as you?"

"I've come to offer you an opportunity," the man's voice came again, "to find a place in the new order."

There was silence after that. So much that Aiolin could hear, faintly, the waves rolling up the black sand beaches beyond the house. A creak from the ceiling made her glance back down the dark hall behind them, but then heavy footsteps whipped her head back around toward the door –

"You _dare_ -"

" _Amara_ -" It was her mother's voice, but it made no difference. By the time she was done, Amara was shouting.

"You _worthless snake_! You brought the Separatists here in the first place! You told us we'd be ending the Republic's tyranny in our sector and now you come back expecting us to patronize an _Empire_?"

"The Separatists funded my work." The stranger didn't yell back at her. "As did you. If you were naïve enough to think it was ever anything more than that, then you didn't deserve what you inherited. Did your ancestors build their fleets by whining that the Core Worlders didn't invite them to their parties?"

"This was about ending the corrupt stranglehold of the Repub –"

Aiolin heard the floor creak under more heavy footsteps. "I didn't come here to blather about the Republic or the Confederacy. The Republic is gone, and you will need to adjust to the new reality, because our Emperor is not a forgiving man."

It was her father's voice now. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's perfectly aware of who favored the Confederacy during the war, and he intends to make them pay."

"What about you?" her mother asked. "Doesn't the Emperor know you were a Separatist?"

"The Emperor values my services. Which brings us to your opportunity – it is time for you to decide what you can provide to your Emperor."

There was a pause after that, and it was Aunt Amara who answered, her voice still louder than normal. "What – what does he want? Money, ships?"

"I'm sure the Empire would be glad to seize your fleets for its own purposes," the stranger said, his voice still calm. "But the Emperor may be persuaded to leave these in hands he can trust. But to earn that, I'm afraid our Emperor requires some… pain."

The quiet lingered longer now. Aiolin couldn't see any movement from the narrow slit along the side of the door. It seemed to take a while before she heard the shift of her father's jacket, the soft _click_ of tapped buttons.

"You should leave. I'm contacting our security now –"

A few footsteps followed this, but these stopped abruptly when the stranger spoke again."I think you'll find that your private security is already under the control of the Imperial troopers sent to accompany me."

At that moment, Aiolin felt something hard lock on her shoulder. She shrieked before that something yanked her back from the door, and looked up to see glowing blue eyes flashing down at her. Before Miss Nineteen could yank her any farther, the door burst open. 

It was one of the men with the strange headbands. He was Zabrak, the lights on the metal band blinking under his small crown of horns. And his face was blank, Aiolin remembered that, how he was there but somehow didn’t look at anything, didn't even seem to see her even when his eyes were on her. He moved out of the doorway, and through it Aiolin could see her mother and father, huddled close on one side of the room, and Aunt Amara in her blue dress, standing closer to the stranger.

"I apologize," came Miss Nineteen's voice behind her. "These two must have slipped by me, I'll have them back upstairs straightaway.

"No." Every head turned to the stranger. He was a human, taller than Aiolin's father, and very thin, with light skin, reddish hair and a beard. He moved closer to the door as he spoke, like he wanted to get a better look at them. Unlike the others, he wore a long black coat, more frayed and patched than any Aiolin had seen before.

"Bring them in."

Miss Nineteen stayed latched on her. She felt and heard the _click_ of the droid's joints as Miss Nineteen looked up from the children, and to their parents, waiting for a command. Both stood, their mouths slightly open, like they had forgotten how to speak. It was Aunt Amara who stepped between them, and hissed at Aiolin's mother, "Send them to bed, Shya." The stranger also took a step toward her.

"I can assure you that my associates are more than capable of dealing with a disagreeable MS Guardian unit."

"They're children," her mother said, as though shocked back into her voice, "they have no place in this –"

"As it appears our relationship will continue, I'd like to become more acquainted with your family." He wasn't looking at he parents when he spoke. Instead, Aiolin felt he was looking straight at her. He had wide shoulders and seemed very, very tall. 

"You have the three others, correct?" the stranger continued. "I don't recall seeing these two before."

Her parents didn't answer. Aiolin looked to her father and saw him staring down at a tiny red light, flashing at his wrist. His chest was moving, up and down, under his overcoat.

"Do it," the stranger said. "Now."

Her father looked up, first to her mother, then Aunt Amara. And then - 

"Miss Nineteen. Just – to the sofa."

There was no pause this time. Miss Ninteen always promptly answered a command from Aiolin's mother or father. Aiolin felt the metal hand against her back again, now gently pushing at her shoulder. She didn't wait. She jumped out of Miss Nineteen's reach, ahead of her droid and her brother into the room and toward the cream-colored sofa. Aiolin didn't look at her parents or her aunt or the strangers, but just tucked herself up into the side of the sofa, against the carved armrest, and looked up expectantly as her brother and the droid arrived after her. Morit slipped up on the sofa next to her, together they hardly took up one of its three cushions. Miss Nineteen's bright eyes switched between them, before she rolled along to the edge of the room.

Nobody spoke at once. This was when Aiolin looked up. To her mother, who was standing with her arms folded, her eyes on the floor; to her father, who was looking right at her, his eyes wide like he was afraid of her; and to her aunt, who was looking at the leader of the strangers. The man rubbed at his beard, and she followed his eyes to another of his companions, this one a human, though he looked even stranger than the Zabrak with his head shaved and the lights on his headband twinkling along his ghost-pale skin. The stranger nodded to him and turned away, and the ghost-man stepped up in front of Aiolin and her brother. His eyes were gray, but when Aiolin looked up at him, she thought she saw a blue light flash behind them.

"They are twins." He spoke in a monotone voice, his eyes still on them. "The male has six standard years, five months, two days, twenty-two hours and six minutes, the female six standard years, five months, two days, twenty-two hours and one minute. Their health standards are all within acceptable parameters; the female has above-average lung capacity, the male is susceptible to vision deterioration but not beyond correctible levels. Neither suffer any obvious insufficiencies."

"What are you do-"

But Aiolin's mother broke off as the stranger waved the pale man away, and stepped up to the children instead. He held out his hand, and Morit looked to Aiolin, and then their parents, and reached out to take the hand when their parents could give them no response. 

"What are your names?" he asked them, as his hand moved to Aiolin. They each answered in turn, and he nodded, before kneeling down to meet their level. "I am called Dr. Cylo. I've been a friend of your parents for quite some time."

"I don't know you," said Morit. Dr. Cylo smiled, leaning closer to her brother. 

"We've never met," he answered. "And aside from that, I sometimes prefer not to wear the same face for too long."

Without asking, Dr. Cylo reached out, touching the back of his hand to the side of Morit's face, and then his forehead. Morit looked too surprised to move, but Aiolin looked to their mother. Aiolin saw, for the first time, how her shoulders were trembling, her hand covering her mouth, but she didn't make a sound. Aiolin looked back down when she felt the stranger's hand on her wrist.

"They're in good health," he said, louder, to the whole room. "Clean, vaccinations up to date I expect, and clearly well-fed." Dr. Cylo pressed his thumb against the under side of her wrist. "I'm afraid that many of the test subjects our mutual friends used to provide were hardly fit for anything, so thin their binders would slip off their wrists."

In the corner of her eye, Aiolin saw her mother go still. Dr. Cylo stood and straightened, releasing Aiolin's wrist and reaching out to tousle her hair. "The war has clearly been good to you."

"You've made your point." Aunt Amara came up behind Dr. Cylo and put her hand on his arm, pulling him away from Aiolin. At once, every other person in the room tensed, but the doctor just smiled and moved his hand away, turning his eyes now on her.

She didn't speak for a moment, still flustered, her breathing quick as she shook her head and released his arm. "You have us here now. What do you want?"

"Just what I've said," Dr. Cylo said, still smiling. "To offer you the opportunity for redemption in the eyes of our Emperor. At a price."

"Then what is it?"

Dr. Cylo looked up and around to the three men in white. He nodded, once, and all three began to move. They had been standing along the edges of the room, quietly encircling the Astarte family, but now came together behind the sofa Aiolin and Morit sat on.

"I'm pleased to tell you that the Emperor has become the most recent benefactor of my work," Dr. Cylo said as the others moved. Aiolin didn't watch him, distracted again by the men with their strange headbands and stoic faces who now stood behind them, but kept looking straight ahead. "I am confident that a contribution of your own toward my new projects should convince him of your loyalty."

"Fine," said Aunt Amara. "How much?"

Dr. Cylo wasn't looking at her. Aiolin saw his eyes flicker, from just to her left where Morit was sitting, to meeting her own. He smiled at them, the kind of coaxing smile adults did when they wanted her to smile back, but Aiolin couldn't do anything but look back at him.

"Two," he said.

And it was only her mother who understood.

" _No_ -" she shouted it, and her father shook, startled –

"What's going –"

"Get out – get out of this house –"

"Shya?" said Aunt Amara this time –

"No –"

They came together in a clash, her aunt throwing her arm out, so hard her mother nearly toppled until her father rushed behind her, pulling her back by her shoulders. Their foot steps clattered on the floor, and Aiolin heard the men in white shuffle behind the sofa, but when she looked back up to Dr. Cylo, he hadn't moved, his eyes still fixed on her.

"This is really very simple." Dr. Cylo spoke loudly, to the commotion behind him, but didn't look up to it. "The Emperor is offering you an opportunity for redemption. Take it now, and you will be considered among the great benefactors of our new Empire. Otherwise, you will see how the Emperor deals with those who were traitors to the Republic."

Finally, as her father and aunt looked to the doctor, and where he was looking, their faces changed. Her father let go of her mother, and stepped to the doctor, "You can't be serious –"

Dr. Cylo finally turned, folding his hands behind his back and looking down at her father. He was silent. Aiolin's eyes flickered to her father, and saw his hands trembling.

"The Emperor can have anything he wants from us."

"Yes," Dr. Cylo said. "He can."

This was, finally, when Aiolin wanted to leave. The men in white felt very close, and she wanted to get up off the sofa, to run behind her parents, to make Miss Nineteen chase her back up the stairs. Or she just wanted to start screaming and crying and hitting anything she could until her arms stopped vibrating and her head stopped hurting. But somehow, she couldn't move, not while they all stood there silent. She couldn't make herself speak or scream or stand. She felt herself shaking, though she could see her hands were still.

"Please –" Her mother, she was breathing fast, Aiolin felt it hard in her chest. " – just – just one of them – Morit, he's such a strong boy, he's so willful, he'll –"

"It will be both," the doctor answered, his voice firm. "It's not always easy to find a healthy set, they will be an especially valuable donation."

The moment he finished, the men in white moved, around from the back of the couch and to the front. Their shadows were long on the floor and Aiolin, still frozen, couldn't make herself look up at them. Couldn't make herself shrink away. 

And then Miss Ninteneen spoke. "What are you doing?"

She wheeled from the doorway where she had stood silent until now, her blue eyes on Aiolin and Morit, setting herself between them and the men in white. Dr. Cylo turned to her parents.

"Call off your droid."

The droid's head swiveled to the doctor, and then his men. "It is my protocol to –"

"Miss Nineteen." 

It was her mother who said it. Her hands were pressed against her face, fingers curled tightly into her light hair, but her voice could still be heard.

"Remove Aiolin's locater cuff. 

The droid went silent, and complied without question. She swooped down to Aiolin, and grabbed the girl's small wrist with her expensive fingers. They weren't supposed to fight Miss Nineteen, because those fingers were so much trouble to replace, and Aiolin didn't think to resist as the droid released the clasp of the metal cuff, and popped it open, quickly removing it. Miss Nineteen straightened, and stayed where she was. There was another stretch of silence, and then her father spoke.

"MS-19." His voice was soft. He was looking at the floor. "Override code 47982."

The droid's head lifted, her shining eyes changing from blue to white.

"Remove from protocol, Aiolin and Morit Astarte."

And in a deep, mechanical tone that was nothing like her voice, the droid answered. "Removed."

Her eyes switched back to blue, and she wheeled from the room, without a glance back. It was barely a second later when Aiolin felt someone take her by the arm.

It all happened very quickly. One of the men in white yanked her from the sofa. Her parents started screaming, begging for more time, another minute, another moment. She thought she heard her brother screaming, too, but Aiolin still stayed quiet, still couldn't make herself move. It all felt very far, the vibrating inside her was too loud for her to hear anything else. Her mother's knees were on the floor, Morit's feet kicked in the air.

And then another arm grabbed her and pulled her back. She saw Aunt Amara's dark blue eyes, felt something hard pressed into her hands. 

"Listen to me." It was just a whisper. "There is only one man who can save you."

She was lifted off the ground, and this broke through her panic. She screamed, and kicked, and clutched her hands close together. She knew she couldn't break free from the man in white, but it was only now, pulled up into the air and held in unfamiliar arms, that she understood it was too late. That she should have run earlier, that she'd missed her chance. 

Somewhere above the screaming, she heard the doctor's voice.

"You have the thanks of a grateful Empire."

* * *

"Is that how you remember it?"

Aiolin didn't startle at his voice. She thought maybe it was what Dr. Cylo watched for when he did that. There were no secrets – this white-walled room was always recorded. But he could also watch them through the mirror panel without them knowing, or at least knowing for sure that he was there, and would, sometimes, suddenly interrupt them. To try to make them flinch. He needed to know what could make them flinch.

She was hovering next to Morit's cot. His was across the white room from her own. The room was tall but not very wide, the mirror panel high up near the ceiling to watch them from above, and panels built into the walls that held everything they needed. A small set of stairs led up to the door. Morit was still unconscious, paths shaved through his blond hair for lines of bacta set into his scalp. Aiolin reached out her fingers toward one of those light blue lines, and Dr. Cylo's voice came back, sharp -

"Don't."

Her hand snapped back. "Touch his stitches and you'll contaminate the bacta. Go sit down, and I'll come in to change your bandages."

Aiolin waited, staring down at Morit's unconscious face, then blinking up to the clear fluid bag hooked into him. She didn't move at all until she heard the door slide, and then she scrambled across the room, her bare feet smacking the floor as she raced to be on her cot before he stepped in. Dr. Cylo didn't say anything. He was still the man with the red hair, he had kept that body for years now, though his neck and face were blotched with patches of Devaronian skin. 

He didn't look at Morit as he crossed the room to her cot, and set his black box down next to her. She held out both her arms – each were wrapped from her wrists to her elbows in thick layers of time-release bandages that continually replenished bacta over her skin, until they dried up. 

"Isn't that what happened?" she asked

Dr. Cylo clicked open his box. "You think it is. I think you've made a few mix ups." He removed a syringe of clear green liquid from the box, looked it over, and without warning, stabbed it into her upper arm, nearly at her shoulder. Aiolin gasped but didn't speak as he pressed down the plunger, and she gritted her teeth against a wave of pain that spread down her arm. 

"But maybe those makes you feel better," he said, as he removed the syringe. Aiolin didn't speak. Tthe pain swept from her arm, along her neck, into her chest, and it was all she could do to stay still, to keep her mouth shut. Dr. Cylo took the moment to work in silence. He peeled back the layers of bandages, until he reached her still shining red skin that had been hidden beneath. That she didn't feel – the skin on her arms was practically numb. Again, he reached into his box, and Aiolin's heart beat faster until she saw him pull out only clean bandages.

"When we're done with this, we can try your wrist trick again," he told her. "And it shouldn't burn you up so badly."

The pain from the injection was subsiding, but her voice still felt stuck in her throat, so she just nodded, and waited for him to finish. Once her arms were covered again, he neatly folded the old bandages, and set them inside his box. "Then we can look at your eyes."

She swallowed down the thick feeling in her throat. "My eyes are acceptable."

"They are," he said. "But you know, there's nothing you can grow yourself that I can't improve."

He snapped the box shut, but then stepped back over to her, putting his hand on her neck and forcing her to tilt her head back. The overhead light flashed into her eyes, so that she couldn't see him, and he shifted his grip to move her head very slightly back and forth, adjusting how the light hit her pupils. 

"We can keep most of it. But a few tweaks on your optic nerve and you'll see more than a Keshian."

He released her. "Don't you think that would be better?"

She couldn't see anything at first, her eyes still swimming from the light, dark shapes cutting into her view. "Could I see in the dark?" she asked.

"You would," he answered. "And plenty of other things you can't imagine until you see them."

Her vision began to clear. She could make out Morit's shape on the cot across from her, start to see the light glisten on his hair. "When will he wake up?"

"A couple hours." Dr. Cylo lifted his box from her cot. "We'll see how it takes, and if his concentration improves, we'll try it on you."

She looked up to him. "He won't remember it at all?"

"He won't be conscious of it." Dr. Cylo didn't explain what that meant. He pulled a chronometer out of his coat pocket. "Rest for thirty minutes before your exercises. The bandages should be firmly set by then."

He left her with that, exiting the room, the door sliding quickly back into place behind him. A few seconds later, the overhead light shut off, leaving only a low red light that always ran along the ceiling at the back wall. Across from her, Morit had disappeared into the darkness. She wondered if he could hear anything she said. If he would be different when he woke, because he didn't have to remember it anymore. 

She wanted to be different – to see in the dark, to make flames to burst from her wrists without burning her skin. She would need all of it. 

Aiolin slid back onto her cot. There were no secrets, he knew about it, and he let her keep it. But she still always waited until the light was out, before she silently rolled over on her cot to reach the wall, and then slid aside the door of the cabinet built into it. She slipped her fingers beneath the stacked changes of her simply white tunic, as though it were a hiding spot. And her fingers curled around the small-capacity holoprojector her aunt had slipped into her hands that last night. Or, that was how she remembered it.

She set it down next to her on the cot, and her finger slipped along the side to trigger it. There was only one image she ever looked at. Aiolin had never checked for more. The blue light fizzled on, and it was his face. The same face they saw in the holoprograms they watched in their studies, between enormous ships, the high spires of Coruscant so far from them, and long lines of troops in white and black armor. Dr. Cylo had promised they would one day be worth more than even a hundred of those troopers. 

His face was older than Dr. Cylo's, he had white hair and more lines in his skin. His eyes were blue, and his face fell into what was barely a smile, but when Aiolin looked at it, her shoulders eased, her breathing relaxed. She needed to be more than a hundred white-armored soldiers, more than anyone else, even her brother. Then she would be ready for him. 

Aiolin tilted her head into the cot, and let her eyes slip closed. "I'm coming," she murmured, before she wrapped her hand around the holoprojector, blocking its light so that darkness fell over the room once more.

**Author's Note:**

> _Aiolin –_
> 
> _He can't save you._
> 
> This was what I wanted to see from this character's history, and then it took forever to write because it was, in fact, pretty miserable to write. Aiolin Astarte and her brother Morit appear briefly in the 2015 run of the _Star Wars: Darth Vader_ comics, as among a group of rivals for Vader created by Doctor Cylo. As one would expect, none were successful, though I'll appreciate if anyone who has read those notices the reference I wrote into Aiolin's fate.


End file.
